in search of blood
by blankrifle
Summary: you could look at it in the literal way or the metaphoric way. its about a girl who had made a decision and cannot go back, thus seeking for her own reality.


**in search of blood**

It started when I was thinking of writing a poem. I was sitting on a corner outside our house. It's a lovely afternoon, so lovely I could paint it in pitchfork red and no one would even notice. Of course it was sunset. This cliché is starting to make me a bit uncomfortable of my own being. During that period people normally eat their dinner but I preferred to be outside the town premises, writing and consuming my sentimentality. But I'm not and I can't. Anyway, while I was entering sublimation, I felt a surge of euphoria. Don't even ask me where it came from and how it happened. Obsessed I was, I grabbed my pen and started to write. I closed my eyes and inhaled the not-so-fresh air while writing. Yes, it was an unorthodox thing to do but like I said, it was euphoria. I really needed to write them down. I don't even know what "them" referred to. And now, I am looking at what my once-euphoric brain gave birth to, and it read something like:

_I know not of existence, _

_And I cease to continue_

_My desperate longing for death_

_which my sanity holds_

_And what of insanity my friend?_

_Is it the bitter apple of truth_

_which poisons the mind_

_And misleads the heart?_

_What now my sweet eternity_

_Will you keep of this undiscovered treasure,_

_May it be a parchment of love_

_Enclosed in tidbits of hatred…_

_Wrapped in aquatic silver tangerines._

_Surrender._

I read the poem again. I didn't understand, really. It was too redundant, too much contrast, too much of everything. There I was, still pondering over nothing, but at the same time nothingness is quietly clouding my sanity and my solitary.

"You look stupid there."

I grunted, "Quiet mortal. You are bruising my negative aura."

"I know you are but what am I?"

What the—

"What is your so-called common sense doing here?" I asked. I did not want conversation right now.

"Nothing. You're not supposed to be here."

"If I were inside the house would it be the same?"

"You're too grouchy. You're probably the grouchiest person I ever talked to."

"I will consider that a compliment. Now, begone—"

I was supposed to say something but it vanished. Like my sanity.

He stared at me for awhile. I guess he was waiting for me to continue. I never did. We stared at each other for a minute and so. It was a game silly mortals played to see who would be the last one to be annoyed.

"You're boring." He was still staring at me.

"I know. I get that a lot." I'm not going to back down this fight.

His name was Krjaegn. He's 18 and he's always been fond of going out during the afternoon and bothering me. I never liked him. He knew I was a blood-sucking freak. He always knew everything. And like some paranoid escape mental patient, I carefully reviewed my thoughts for fear of him reading it. It never disturbed or even scared him—me being a vampire. Like the typical demonic heavy metal freak he spent most of his time being nocturnal, listening to Metallica and rocking out with his friends. He made me laugh one time, and I knew he would never try to make me laugh again. He has dark brown hair and is a bit short for his age. Since I'm only 12 we were almost of the same height.

"I'm tired. You make me sick." He looked at the shoes I was wearing. "Since when did you last have those shoes?"

I exasperated and said, "Since the day my very presence killed my parents."

"Are you sad? Do you want to cry on my shoulders?" he said mockingly.

I was forced to expose my fangs in anger.

"Hold it there, Fangoria." He backed away, snickering a little more.

"When I visit you and your dreams, would you like me to prepare the coffin for you?" I said.

"Soon. When will you make me one?"

"When I have claimed back my mortality, fool."

And with that he walked back to his house, looking at the terribly damp asphalt. It rained a while ago, by the way. And it didn't bother me. Whoever said vampires were afraid of rain was stupid. Of course, people were super superstitious back then they'd never know. Now, technology proved all of them wrong. And there _are_ vampires, my friend. There are.

Great. I'm hungry. My stomach is talking to me, desperately looking for—and you thought I'd never mention this part—blood. I need not be dramatic. Of course it was normal for people to be hungry, or thirsty. Eitherway I won't care. The only difference was that I needed blood. And don't be overzealous. It's just blood. And I don't get blood from people, at least most of the time. I mostly get from rats and basically any animals with blood. But on special occasions, I must add, we _do _look for humans who think their lives have no worth and aspiring vampires (the kind of people who wear too much eyeliner and spend the night looking for people like us). To human food, I may be equal to a vegetarian, but not wholly vegetarian.

Of course there'd be introductions. This will be short, for I have been twelve for six years now. That means I'm supposed to be 18, just like Krjaegn. And by that I meant we're of the same age, not because I'd like to emphasize something. Where will I start…

My parents were vampires. No, I wouldn't call them parents. They were more like people who wanted children but couldn't because once you're a vampire all your organs die except I guess for your brain. Heart? I wouldn't count on it. I often wonder though if it really did or not. Anyway, how my parents made me their child is a bit complicating. Let me see…I don't really remember much of the details.

My real parents got bitten and died in the process, and it didn't really scare me. As a child I had these "imaginary friends" which in reality were my parents now. But up to now I think they were really products of my imagination. Heck, I think my existence and everything was made up by my imagination. You'll never know.

How my real parents got bitten you ask…I remember it was a Wednesday and I was from school. I was reading Sylvia Plath's _The Bell Jar _(which was a really inspiring story). I was in my room and my "imaginary friend," Nairgi gave me an option. She asked me if I could be her daughter. I said yes. And I really wanted to, to be honest. The family was living like a freakin' Brady bunch but in the middle of the night the vizard is unmasked. I would hear my parents shouting about my "problem," love affairs, cheating, time and all that crap. I never liked the family. Pessimism opened my eyes at a very young age. I just couldn't take the so-called "good life" we had. Anyway, I never really saw them after I said yes. It was like at the snap of my finger they're dead. And then my parents occupied the house and we were as happy as the most suicidal people on this planet. I wasn't literally speaking of happy by the way.

When I was bitten, I thought I was going be to be injected. You know, with a needle. They told me that I was going to dream a very long dream and when I wake up everything will change and I would be living a different life. I was twelve, and I loved the idea. So they put me to sleep and when I woke up I was sucking my mother's blood, like a baby getting milk from his mother. Renaissance.

When I became a vampire I was hungry most of the time. I bled myself unconsciously, and I grabbed any living creature there is and got hold of their blood. Riag, that's my father, taught me the art of killing and it really made me laugh. Let's be honest, it was pretty lame. Stalking someone in dark alleys and flirting with them a bit, then after, killing them. It was really hilarious—especially the demonstration. So my parents gave me an option, and I chose the "vegetarian" kind of drinking blood. But I can choose whatever I want, they said.

That's what I loved about my parents. They always gave me options. My intellectual capacity is very low, but they knew better. Whatever option I chose, they are always there to support me. Thus making me very liberated.

For six years I isolated myself from society. Actually, for 18 years I have been isolated from society. I never understood myself. There was always something wrong with me. Reality for me was really hard. Maybe life would be a better term. Some knew me as a vampire and they had no problem with it. Well, most people evaded my presence. And in this age society already ignored "different" people and let them live. They weren't as barbaric as before, that I would say. Krjaegn was probably the only insane person who annoyed me.

And now, this side of the world is saying good evening to the sun. Everything is so dark now. I saw a rat pass by a while ago, but when it became conscious of my presence it quickly disappeared. It came back, though, out of its freakin' curiosity, and I swiftly grabbed hold of it. I was really hungry. My fangs elongated like hell and my hunger was satisfied. The taste of blood refreshes me. It cleanses my soul—whatever soul there was.

"Goth chicks rule!" one of Krjaegn's friends shouted. First of all, I'm not Goth because Gothic people are dead now. But if he was referring to "Goths," as in people who wear black eternally, whose eyes wore really thick eyeliner and who wanted death without suicide, I am, in a way, a "Goth." Okay, I'm going to stop now because I'm evolving into a cliché. Bottom line: I just wear black. I don't like all the other colors.

I have been appointed by my parents to bring me a human, by the way. The first person that came to mind was Krjaegn but I changed my mind. He's not worth it. It was going to be a special day—my birthday, the day when I became a vampire.

"Look for someone you hate the most," Riag told me, "no, that wouldn't be right. Someone you want to eat, then." It made me smile.

"I don't really know a lot of people here. Why can't it be a rat or something?" I protested.

"Rat? That wouldn't be special. Find something grander. It's your birthday, anyway. And besides, the last time you fed on human blood was eons ago." Nairgi told me.

"Whatever. I'll go look for one," I said.

And now I'm sitting on the cemented pavement, holding a pen and paper, and looking like I'm star-gazing when in fact there are no stars and I was thinking of looking for human blood. I was supposed to ask Krjaegn where I can look for one but I guess I forgot. I haven't wandered around the town simply because I'm not familiar with the places. I'm just a lone homebody day by day, nay, night by night having no choice but to listen to the world die slowly but constantly.

I won't be back until midnight. I considered my birthday as an adventure and my mission was to look for food. The problem now is I don't know where to find one. So I kept the poem I wrote in my pocket and walked—to where?—I still don't know.

"Who are you and what do you do?" That was the first question someone asked me while I was walking. A man—in his 30s—grabbed his wallet and scanned for money.

"I'm one of your unattainable sexual fantasies," I said. I was almost close to laughing. He was high. I can smell Tijuana from his coat. I'm used to these people. They always heighten up my humor.

"Son of a—," I bit his finger and he laughed. Since when did people get ticklish on their fingers? His blood provided heat for my body. I'm starting to love my birthday.

"I'm not a son but a daughter. Be careful. Drugs can kill you." Yes, how corny of me.

I was ten blocks away from the house and I still haven't found someone.

"You look lost."

Dammit. If another token up person comes and talks to me I swear I'm going to drag him home.

"I'm not." I said.

A silhouette made me figure he was a tall person, and a she. Whoever that person is, I couldn't see her and she wasn't on drugs. At least I hope she wasn't.

"What are you looking for then?" she asked.

"None of your business."

She came forward and there appeared a tall girl who wore a white shirt that said, 'harhar' and a long black tulle skirt. She didn't wear eyeliner, no, her face wasn't made up. She let her long black curly hair down which accented her figure. She was beautiful.

"Why hello there, young girl," she said. She kneeled and looked at me with insult. Her eyes were laughing, I could tell.

I didn't respond. I'm in a trap.

"Are you looking for your mommy?" she asked. I turned my back and walked.

"I could help you look for it you know," she said.

She ran and chased me, on her stilettos. That was something new.

"Do you want my blood?" she asked.

I stopped. My stomach reacted.

"You're a vampire, aren't you?"

The term made me laugh. In fact I laughed so hard I think I creeped her out. She backed away. I looked at her and asked, "If I am, what would you do?"

I walked away. She was wasting my time.

"Drink my blood. Please. I want to be just like you." Honestly, just hearing these words make me want to laugh again, but instead I said, "Are you sure with what you're saying?"

"Of course. I always wanted to be one."

This was a new challenge for me. One part of me says I should take her home with me and sacrifice her in front of my parents and another part of me says I should go for it right now and leave her to rot since my hunger is coming back. I chose the other part, though. I slowly walked away…


End file.
